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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043683">Murder House</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626'>Morpheus626</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metalocalypse (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:55:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My @mtl-trick-or-treat for @enydart on Tumblr! Written over a year ago now; I'm finally getting all my fic from Tumblr onto here as well, including this one that was an absolute joy to write! This was for the Trick prompt, asking for ‘something gross with Murderface.’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ads for the haunted house played constantly from October 15th on . Radio, TV, even billboards plastered all over. He did his best to ignore them, even though he wanted to take a flamethrower to any billboard or screen that had the ad on it for even a second. </p>
<p>The rest of the band, however, was harder to ignore. By the fifth night of the ads playing during their favorite evening TV shows, he was ready to snap listening to them comment. </p>
<p>“Look at thats; you ams the most famous of us now,” Skwisgaar snickered as the ad played. </p>
<p>Lights flashed and flickered on the big screen as it showed the haunted house actors depicting the murder-suicide that had sent him to his grandparents. There was even a chubby baby actor sat in the middle of the gore-’Baby Murderface looks on in horror!’ exclaimed the ad’s dramatic narrator. </p>
<p>“Ams thats legal?” Toki asked, pointing at the screen. “To use your lifes like thats and makes a haunted house so…sads?” </p>
<p>“Amn’ts even haunted really,” Skwisgaar replied. “Just sads. A sads house. What ams scary about thats?”</p>
<p>Pickles shrugged. “Well, <em>someone</em> sold their rights to their life story years ago. That’s scary, if you ask me. Cuz then they can do shit like this, and you’re shit outta luck to stop them. Ain’t that right, Murderface?” </p>
<p>He wanted to just rage. To tell them to shut the fuck up, or he’d set fire to the living room just like he wanted to set fire to the haunted house and anyone who was involved with it. But he’d been upset constantly, since the ads had started. It felt strange, but he was almost tired of being upset and yelling about it. He just wanted to do something to get rid of it. </p>
<p>“Whatever, juscht schut up about it. They were schupposed to make a cool movie out of my life,” Murderface sighed. </p>
<p>Nathan chuckled. “You uh, you really thought they were gonna do that? Buying the rights to your life story; that was gonna make a really cool movie?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, why the fuck not? People make movies about all kindsch of dumb schit; you can make a movie about anything basically!” Murderface spat back.</p>
<p>“Okay, Murderface, look–thing is, they gotta have a cool fun story, to make a cool movie. A movie about your life…that’d be pretty sad, dude,” Pickles said. “I mean, who the fuck would wanna watch that?” </p>
<p>“Well, once he joins us, I mean…that’d be a cool movie,” Nathan said. </p>
<p>“Yeah, but then that’s just a Dethklok movie,” Pickles replied. “And that ain’t what he wants; he wants a Murderface-only movie. But nobody’s gonna go see that, or if they did they’d like…I don’t know, cry themselves to death or something.” </p>
<p>Murderface bit his tongue. They were in a rhythm now, going back and forth to talk shit about him. It was easier to try to stay quiet and ride it out. </p>
<p>“Yeah, probably. Can you see it? ‘Saddest movie ever, millions cry themselves to death and stab out their own eyes’,” Nathan said. “Huh. Actually, that would be brutal as fuck. Murderface, you should call them–tell them to nix this haunted house bullshit and make the movie instead.” </p>
<p>There were tears at the corner of his eyes, even though he didn’t want them there. He tried to look only at the TV, hoping no one would notice them. </p>
<p>“Oh geez, look yous mades him cry now,” Skwisgaar tutted. “You eggs him on like this, when he ams already a big crysbaby, makes it worse. Ams you just a big baby Murderface? No, so knocks it off.” </p>
<p>“He likes attention, that’s all he wants,” Pickles started. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I says thats, like a big baby,” Skwisgaar interrupted. “Needings all this attentions.” </p>
<p> “Oh fuck you! You’ve got moviesch and booksch written about you!” Murderface protested. If anyone could talk about being an attention-needy baby, it was Skwisgaar. </p>
<p>“Yeah, but I has to have them all takens down. Dids not authorize anys of thems, so they amnt’s accurate. I don’ts want them, but people makes them anyway.” Skwisgaar replied testily. “And does yous mean Toki’s book? Because that ams nots something I wanted either.” </p>
<p>“Oh fuck yous, Skwisgaar,” Toki scoffed. “Yous ams just as bad. What theys calls an ‘attention whores’.” </p>
<p>“Oh, and what ams yous, Mr. Gives-me-a-solo-rights-now-or-I-cries?” Skwisgaar shouted. </p>
<p>It devolved from there, and he tuned it out. They’d forgotten to keep making fun of him, at least. But there was no watching the show with that much yelling over it; the cue to head in for the night. </p>
<p>His boots thudded against the stone floors, and then against the wall of his room as he kicked them off and tossed them into a corner. </p>
<p>“Schtupid executive asscholes. Schtupid Halloween. My life ischn’t scary, or schad, or anything–it’sch mine. How’d they like it if schomeone did that to them?” he grabbed an ancient dagger from its spot hanging on the wall and slashed in front of him. “Or better yet–Michael or Freddy or schomething could come and cut them down. Just schome creepy freak coming after them.”</p>
<p>He let the dagger clatter to the floor. “They’d never schee it coming…” </p>
<p>And there it was. The perfect revenge, to make sure they’d never take anyone else’s life and turn it into some stupid attraction. To show them he wouldn’t take this lying down. </p>
<p>Or that someone wouldn’t, at least. </p>
<p>After all, Charles did have a few limits legally. He got them out of a lot of shit, but some of it was going to simply come down to being careful. There wasn’t too much work to do anyway–the website for the haunted house listed two main executives from the studio he’d sold his rights to, a team lead for the attraction itself, and if he could take out a few actors in the house too, well that was just icing on the cake at that point. </p>
<p>It wasn’t a lot of murders for Charles to have to make disappear, but it was enough work if it was Murderface, famous bassist committing them. </p>
<p>But a faceless, nameless boogeyman could get the job done. </p>
<p>The outfit was easy to draw up, his ideas flowing like water. A little bit Michael with the black protective jumpsuit, and a touch of Freddy with the knives, all hidden in specially designed pockets so it wouldn’t look super bulky. The mask was fitting of any horror movie monster–blank and emotionless, unknowable.</p>
<p>Really, the mask was his masterpiece. Made of a flexible material so as to still be comfortable, with specialty coatings on the front to make it difficult for any victim to stab or shoot through it. It wouldn’t stop everything, but it would help keep him from getting outright killed. Not that he planned on giving them much of chance for that. Last, it would be painted a dark shade of blue, almost black, the color he figured would make it easiest to blend into any shadows. Only holes for the eyes and a few hidden ones near the nose–anything more felt too risky, too much of a chance to potentially be recognized. </p>
<p>The bonus of being this rich was that no one would ask questions when he ordered weird shit. Hell, he commissioned random costumes for Planet Piss all the time. Charles would make sure the orders got processed as quickly as possible, and then his work could begin.</p>
<p>It was almost therapeutic, all of the planning and designing. It made falling asleep easier and quicker than it had been in weeks, and for the first time in awhile, he slept with a smile on his face.</p>
<p>                                          ————————–</p>
<p>The three days that followed were all tense excitement. Excitement for waiting for the outfit to get there, excitement to get started. With the main businessmen taken out of the equation, it would be easy to get Charles to start the legal side of things–to file lawsuits for everything from defamation to claiming he never sold his rights at all. And then the thing would be shuttered for good. </p>
<p>The suit arrived first. Thick material, meant for an industrial setting, slow to stain or tear. And it fit like a glove. </p>
<p>“I’ll corner thosche asscholes in their penthousches, and paint the wallsch with their gutsch!” he crowed as he finished buttoning it. It was a bit weird not wearing his shorts, but some sacrifice would be required to pull this all off. </p>
<p>Now he could only hope the guys wouldn’t question the deliveries he was getting. They almost always did–for anyone. Pure morbid curiosity, or hoping it was something fun to be shared. </p>
<p>So of course, they asked. </p>
<p>“Uh, you quitting on us or something?” Pickles asked on the morning of the fourth day after the Plan had started, as they all dug into their breakfasts. “Going into construction?” </p>
<p>“Of coursche not,” Murderface replied. “How’d you find out what it was anyway?” </p>
<p>Pickles shrugged. “I smoke up with one of the gals in the mail room. She lets me look at all the mail that comes through here. Kinda fun.” </p>
<p>“What the fuck, how long has she let you do that?” Nathan asked, his fork still halfway to his mouth as he stared perturbed at Pickles. </p>
<p>Pickles shrugged again. “Couple years now. Why, you ordering nasty sex toys or something you don’t want me to see?” </p>
<p>Nathan flushed pink, and glared down into his pancakes. “Don’t be an asshole. Just don’t want you going through all my shit.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re ordering nasty shit. I’m gonna watch out for your stuff more now,” Pickles grinned. </p>
<p>“Juscht fire her,” Murderface said, grateful the topic was drifting away from his mail. “Then he can’t get in there anymore.” </p>
<p>“Nah, he won’t,” Pickles replied. “You guys all know her–the one with those green eyes.” </p>
<p>“Damn it,” Nathan huffed. “She’s nice. Always leaves a little note on my mail when she brings it to my room with a smiley face. I can’t fire her.” </p>
<p>“Told ya,” Pickles smirked. “So, ya going to your shitty haunted house or something? Making a spooky costume, Scaryface?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, might use it for Halloween” Murderface snorted. “But, itsch really for Planet Pissch. Got a…concept album idea going.” </p>
<p>“Ams it piss?” Toki asked. </p>
<p>Skwisgaar rolled his eyes as he sipped his coffee. “Whats does you think, Toki. What’s else woulds it be?” </p>
<p>“Wes should does a groups costume this year,” Toki said. “Then wes can all goes to sees the sads Murderface house!” </p>
<p>“I woulds be ups for thats,” Skwisgaar replied. “Gots to be somethings cool though, Toki.” </p>
<p>“No, no, what the fuck, no,” Pickles protested. “Thought you Swedes were antisocial, why the hell do you wanna do a group costume?” </p>
<p>Skwisgaar glared. “Because I ams Swedish, I can’ts have friends? Wes can’ts have funs with a groups costume? Ams I meant to hates fun?” </p>
<p>“I just figured you wouldn’t think it was cool,” Pickles replied. “Don’t gotta be a douche bag about it.” </p>
<p>“Oh fines then, I goes as the personifications of nihilism,” Skwisgaar scoffed. “Ams that an acceptable costume for mes, Pickle?” </p>
<p>Murderface ate in silence as the argument grew over the group costume idea. He’d get used to even more arguments if it meant they’d forget to ask him about what he was doing. </p>
<p>Still, Pickles potentially seeing his mail made him worry. When the mask showed up later that day, he made sure the mail team knew to bring it straight to his room. </p>
<p>But it was Charles who knocked on his door and had the package in hand. </p>
<p>“Look it over, if you want changes made we’ll send it back right away,” he said, watching as Murderface tried to open the package without letting him see too much of it. </p>
<p>“Serial killer…that’s a fun costume,” Charles continued as Murderface turned away to examine the mask.</p>
<p>“How would you know?” Murderface asked as he felt Charles sit on the end of the bed. “Can’t see you getting dressed up for Halloween much.” </p>
<p>Charles only shrugged. “So…will it work?” </p>
<p>Murderface turned and stared. Did he somehow know? How the fuck could he know? </p>
<p>“For your costume?” Charles asked, an eyebrow raised. </p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Perfect,” Murderface replied, relieved. And it was, exactly the way he wanted it. </p>
<p>“Good,” Charles said, a small smile on his face. “Have fun putting it together. I’m sure you’ll look great.” </p>
<p>After Charles had left, he pulled everything on and stood in front of the mirror near his closet. The whole picture–suit, mask, boots, a pair of black leather gloves–looked good. </p>
<p>Except…</p>
<p>His hair ruined it. Everybody knew his hair, the fucking curly triangle. He had to hide it.</p>
<p>A thick winter beanie didn’t help, and the mask fit funny then. Any other hats would likely be the same result. </p>
<p>“You gotta go,” he told the reflection of his curls. “We’re ugly asch schit anyway, being bald ain’t gonna make a difference.” </p>
<p>He called for a klokateer from the hairdressing department, and changed back into his regular clothes while he waited for them. </p>
<p>The klokateer had to have run, she was so out of breath. “Sir, you needed someone immediately. How may I assist you?” </p>
<p>He pointed to his hair. “Get rid of it.” </p>
<p>Her eyes were only barely visible with her hood on, but he could see them go wide. “Uhm…maybe we could just try a different style? Going straight to bald is a big change, sir.” </p>
<p>“I. Want. It. Gone,” he replied. She’d run to Charles in a minute, he was sure of it. </p>
<p>“Uh, we’ll need the clippers, not these,” she said, holding up a pair of shears. “Just let me go get those.” </p>
<p>He sat on his bed and waited for the phone to ring. She’d have run to Charles, begging for help as to what to do without being seen as being disobedient. A moment later, his Dethphone rang loudly. </p>
<p>“Murderface, I’ve got a very scared and confused young woman in here saying you want to chop off all your hair. Is this true?” Charles asked. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Murderface replied. “Why’sch that a big deal?” </p>
<p>“Well, it is a very sudden image change. We’ll have to do all new publicity photos, promotions. And it is a bit random–why do you want to do this?” Charles asked. </p>
<p>“Want a change, that’sch all,” Murderface sighed. “Can’t a guy want to change schit up?” </p>
<p>Charles sighed. “Of course. I’ll send another hairdresser to you. This one’s a bit too shaky to do the job now.” </p>
<p>Murderface tapped the ‘end call’ button, and flopped back against his pillows. The guys would hate having to take new pictures, but they’d get over it. Besides, maybe they’d have to make a sacrifice or two to help his revenge as well. </p>
<p>It was a male klokateer this time, silent as he sat down a chair and propped a broom and dust pan near the door. He was silent all the way through the cut as well, but that was just fine. </p>
<p>When the klokateer had cleaned the floor of his curls and left, Murderface put the outfit back on. </p>
<p>It made a world of difference. Now, he looked like a proper faceless killer. </p>
<p>Now, all he had to do was start killing. </p>
<p>                                          ———————–</p>
<p>The next morning, he was glowing. There was no other way to put it. He was excited beyond belief to get started. Granted, he still needed to do a bit of research to figure out where each victim would be. But there were multiple social media accounts for each person, so it would be easy enough. </p>
<p>The biggest worry right now was the reaction to his hair, or the lack of it. The guys did not disappoint as he joined them at the breakfast table. </p>
<p>“What in the fuck dids yous do?” Skwisgaar asked, dropping his fork. “And why?” </p>
<p>“I wanted to,” Murderface replied. “Felt like something different. Not bad, right?” </p>
<p>“Ugggghhh,” Nathan whined. “We’re gonna have to do new promos now. I hate promo photos.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, but they moved that green-eyed klokateer to the makeup team,” Pickles said. “Charles found out she was letting me in the mail room and uh…look, it was either move her or lose her. But you could talk to her more now, since she’ll be at the promos shoot.” </p>
<p>Nathan smiled a very small smile. “Would be nice to say hi…” </p>
<p>“Yeah, cuz you think she’s pretty. Even with the hood,” Pickles teased. </p>
<p>“She is,” Nathan said. “Don’t make it weird when she’s around us, okay? We don’t wanna creep her out.” </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for ya,” Pickles replied as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “You’ll get your chance with pretty mail girl.” </p>
<p>“Not ifs Murderface gets it firsts,” Toki said. “Ams almost normal lookings now.” </p>
<p>They all stared at Toki, then at Murderface. </p>
<p>“Huh…you do look decent. I mean, still weird to see, but I don’t know, it works somehow,” Pickles said, breaking the brief silence. </p>
<p>Nathan nodded. “Still not getting her number though.” </p>
<p>“I won’t even try,” Murderface replied, rolling his eyes. He could worry about getting groupies with his new look after all his work was done. Normally, he’d have been all over the idea right away, but this was different. </p>
<p>“Nots going to beats my numbers,” Skwisgaar muttered. “But yous looks okay. Almost goods, even.” </p>
<p>“What can I schay, I know what looksch good,” Murderface smiled. “I was right about my schorts being schexy as hell, now with thisch–I’m gonna be irresistible.” </p>
<p>He shoveled his food in quick as the conversation moved on to some bullshit about Toki wanting more groupies at the end of each concert. He had more important concerns. He’d get the suit ready with all of the knives he’d set aside for the project, and figure out where to go for his first target. If he could, he’d head out for it tonight. </p>
<p>As soon as he was done with his plate, he dashed back to his room and started putting them away. It was fun, with so many hidden pockets to fill. He’d never get caught without a weapon, and once he was done it would go back to its spot–no murder weapons to be left behind. </p>
<p>“Perfect,” he breathed as he finished the suit and held it up in front of himself. </p>
<p>“Is it?” </p>
<p>Charles’ voice made him jump. He hadn’t even heard him come in. </p>
<p>“How the hell…what the…you should learn how to knock!” Murderface yelled, carefully folding the suit in close to his chest, as if he could somehow prevent Charles from seeing it any further.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Charles replied, a smirk on his face. </p>
<p>Murderface felt sweat pooling on his face. Charles wasn’t supposed to know about this part of things. Just to know when the assholes were dead, so he could start the legal paperwork. “Uh…now you know my costume is really perfect! I’m gonna look great!” </p>
<p>“You will,” Charles agreed. “Also, 4242.” </p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Murderface asked. </p>
<p>“The first executive you’re going to kill. The code to his penthouse door is 4242,” Charles replied matter-of-factly. </p>
<p>Murderface knew his jaw was hanging open, but he couldn’t help it. How in the hell had he figured it all out?</p>
<p>“All the details for your orders lead to someone far away from here. Some ass in Ohio who keeps trying to scalp Dethklok tickets. If the worst happens, and they start tracking anyone down to nail for these killings, it’ll be that jerk. Not you,” Charles continued. </p>
<p>“How did you–” Murderface started. </p>
<p>“Does it really matter?” Charles asked. “Point is, you’re doing a good job of keeping your tracks covered–I’m just going to make sure they stay covered.” </p>
<p>“How do I know you aren’t gonna fuck me over though?” Murderface asked. If there would be anyone to turn him in, he would guess Charles would be the first to do it. </p>
<p>Charles looked genuinely hurt at that. “Look, I get it. I’m not fun, I don’t seem like the type to let you get away with this. Just–just know I’ve got my reasons for wanting you to be successful in this endeavor. I won’t fuck you over.” </p>
<p>“What, you’ve got bodies buried out in a desert schomewhere too?” Murderface asked, snorting. </p>
<p>Charles didn’t laugh. Didn’t chuckle. Didn’t move an inch. That was scary as fuck. </p>
<p>“Uh, never mind. You don’t gotta anschwer that,” Murderface said quickly. </p>
<p>Charles sighed. ‘Look, he leaves for the Bahamas soon. So we need to get you out to him by this time tomorrow. And to the rest fairly quickly too, if we want this thing shut down by Halloween.” </p>
<p>“You…you don’t like the haunted housche either?” Murderface asked. He’d figured Charles honestly didn’t give that much of a fuck about it. </p>
<p>“Of course I don’t,” Charles scoffed. “Makes you look bad, and by association, the band. You don’t deserve it, and neither do the guys. But I haven’t found a way to touch them yet legally, so this…well, it’ll be perfect.” </p>
<p>Murderface was struck. Granted, he was just as concerned about the band as he was for him, but…someone gave a shit. Honestly, truly, cared. </p>
<p>“I’ll let you know when the plane is ready. Get packed,” Charles instructed as he turned and headed for the door. </p>
<p>“You know where they all are?” Murderface asked. “You’re schure?” </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t send you if I wasn’t,” Charles replied as he left. “I’ll have an alibi for your absence, in case any of the guys notice. So just go with it, okay?” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded, and rushed to pack as Charles footsteps faded down the hallway. </p>
<p>In six days time, all the assholes would be dead, and everything would be good again. </p>
<p>The excitement was delicious.</p>
<p>                                            ———————–</p>
<p>The plane ride was quick, yet not quick enough. Still, before he knew it, he was in front of the penthouse building. It wasn’t too far from Mordhaus, only about fifty miles. He’d expected to have to travel longer, but was glad he didn’t have to. </p>
<p>It was a busy enough place that crowds bustled around him, and he could drift past people through the doors without anyone glancing at him. The security guard was asleep, and there was no one else in the lobby. He didn’t want to jinx it, but it almost seemed like it would be easy. </p>
<p>Then again, it wasn’t like there was much to stare at. He looked like any other guy coming to stay with someone in the building, in a black tee and jeans that Charles had waiting on the plane for him. The black duffel bag that held his suit and mask looked like any other travel bag. He was just a visitor, no one to look twice at. </p>
<p>It was an incredibly freeing feeling. He’d never thought he would miss being anonymous, but it was nice for a short time. </p>
<p>The service elevator wasn’t even hidden; he found it down a hall just off of the lobby. On the ride up to the penthouse, he changed, his hands shaking. He stowed the bag in the small room that housed the upper level entrance to the elevator, then started down the hall to the door of the penthouse.</p>
<p>The design of which was gross even to him. It might have been called a penthouse, but it was technically the first two top floors–in his mind, it was bigger than a penthouse then. </p>
<p>But he wasn’t there to argue exactly what this guy’s home qualified as. He punched the code into the door panel, grabbed a large kitchen knife from one pocket sheath, and started into the dark home. </p>
<p>A bachelor, and it showed by the state of the penthouse. There was still a pile of coke laying on the living room table, which was just showy and ridiculous to Murderface. Erotic art covered the walls, and while he owned a few of the same pieces himself, even this was a bit of overkill. You could barely see the wall behind the art there was so much of it. </p>
<p>A light shone in the darkness, probably a bedroom. He moved towards it, as quiet as he could manage. </p>
<p>“Jasmine?” a raspy voice called out. “I didn’t expect you tonight, baby. I’m not gonna pay you for a surprise visit; I hope you know that. But I’ll be happy to have some company.” </p>
<p>This was it. Murderface gripped the knife tight, and charged into the room. </p>
<p>The executive was in a open robe and boxers, and stared in shock at Murderface. </p>
<p>“What in the–” he started.</p>
<p>Murderface stepped forward and shoved the knife into his open mouth. It was hard to yank back out, but the choking noises were incredibly satisfying to hear as he stabbed again and again–the man’s fat gut, his chest, slashing across his arms as he back up and fell to the bed, raising them to try and defend himself. Blood was splattered across his mask, and sweat dripped down his face, but he was enjoying the exertion–which would figure. The only exercise he’d enjoy would have to be illegal. </p>
<p>Finally, the executive stopped moving. His intestines were falling out of him, and blood drenched the silver silk sheets and painted the walls. It was glorious. </p>
<p>“One down,” he muttered to himself. “Two and how many extras to go.” </p>
<p>He checked three times for a pulse before he left. The walk out was as easy as the walk in too–he changed again in the elevator, using a rag in the bag to wipe his boots clean, and walked past the same guard who was still fast asleep. </p>
<p>The air tasted sweeter outside. It was cliche, but so true. He felt good–he always talked about doing shit, but so often didn’t. It felt amazing to finally do something. </p>
<p>And he was excited to do more.</p>
<p>                                      ————————</p>
<p>He slept on the plane ride home, not bothering or caring to check the time. He’d get home when he’d get home, and deal with any questions from the guys if any of them were up. He hadn’t left too late, so they were likely to still be stumbling around watching TV or something. </p>
<p>Sure enough, they were all squished together on a couch, seemingly half asleep. They bounced back to wakefulness once he walked in though. </p>
<p>“You dog!” Pickles shouted. “We heard about her; Charles told us everything! Toki was right, the hair was the problem. Now you’re getting models!” </p>
<p>He grinned as Pickles charged towards him and slapped him on the back. He kept a tight hold of his duffel bag as he was steered towards the couch. He didn’t want any of them getting curious and searching through it. This was a hell of an alibi that Charles had given him. </p>
<p>“So?” Skwisgaar asked expectantly. </p>
<p>“What?” Murderface asked. “The model?” </p>
<p>“Yeah!” Nathan exclaimed. “How was she?”</p>
<p>“Uh, amazing, of course,” Murderface replied, hoping he sounded less awkward than he felt. “Juscht wild, you know how models are.” </p>
<p>“Looks at him,” Skwisgaar chuckled, and gently patted his cheek. “Still all sweaty and disgustings. Goods for you!” </p>
<p>Murderface just nodded and smiled. This was all good and fun (though it would be more fun if Charles also could supply him with an actual model to date) but he was still tired. And he needed to get his stuff into his room and clean it all up. </p>
<p>“Look at that grin,” Nathan laughed. “God, are you finally gonna be fun? That’s awesome, if you are.” </p>
<p>“Yeah!” Toki added. “Then wes all gets ladies for afters our shows, and everybody ams happy! Oh wowee, we gotta takes you out to celebrates!” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Murderface agreed as he stood from the couch. “Schome night later this week maybe. Or hey, what about Halloween? Big night out to celebrate!” </p>
<p>They cheered. They’d never been this enthusiastic for one of his suggestions before. Was it the hair, the alibi and fake accomplishment, or the real confidence from the murder that he’d been missing all this time to get them to really like him? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he wasn’t ever going back to what he was before. </p>
<p>“That sounds like fun, and I hate to interrupt the planning,” Charles said, suddenly in the room. They needed to put a damn bell on him. “Can I borrow Murderface for a moment though? After all, I’m sure he needs to actually get some sleep now!” </p>
<p>Their happy laughter echoed down the halls as Charles gently pulled him away from the couch and to his room.</p>
<p>He shut and locked the door, and gestured to two plush armchairs at one wall of the massive bedroom. “Have a seat. You deserve the rest. Scotch okay?”</p>
<p>Murderface nodded and took in the room. It was very…Charles. Richly yet plainly decorated. All black and red, almost something out of Dracula’s castle with the velvet everywhere, yet nothing stood out about it to declare it as Charles’. The chair was comfy, if nothing else. </p>
<p>He dropped his back by him as he dropped into the chair, and gratefully took the glass of scotch from Charles. </p>
<p>“So…how was it?” Charles asked. </p>
<p>He took a breath. “It wasch…amazing. I can’t wait for the next one.” </p>
<p>He felt his cheeks flush as Charles grinned. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you had fun. I figured you would, but I wanted to check in just in case. I’m proud of you for this, you know,” Charles said. “This is quite an undertaking. But you’re doing wonderfully.” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded. “Thanksch.” </p>
<p>The silence sat for a moment before Charles broke it. </p>
<p>“You want to know why I’m so invested.” </p>
<p>He nodded. “I mean…I get it. You take care of usch, and all our bullschit. But this…you’re really exschited for this.” </p>
<p>Charles tossed back the scotch in his glass and smiled. “Well. I can’t tell you everything. In fact, there’s more I can’t tell you than there is that I can. But I–I had my own reasons to do this sort of violence you’re doing now. The why doesn’t matter so much anymore, not to me at least. But that’s because the people I needed dead are in the ground, rotting, and no longer a threat to me. And that is…very freeing.” </p>
<p>“You feel safe,” Murderface found himself whispering, so quietly his speech impediment didn’t have a chance to start. </p>
<p>Charles nodded, but his eyes were on his empty glass. “Yes. I suppose that’s the best way to describe it.” </p>
<p>“Did you enjoy it?” Murderface asked. </p>
<p>Charles chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that already.” </p>
<p>He nodded. “Yeah. Bet you’d be out here doing these yourschelf if you could.” </p>
<p>Charles sat up a bit straighter. “I mean…it would be fun. To do it again. Even just once. But I don’t want to take away from your fun.” </p>
<p>“I’ll need help at the haunted housche,” Murderface replied. “I’ve got to take out the team lead, but there’ll be a bunch of actorsch we can take down too…I don’t want to be overwhelmed by anyone fighting back. You could come with, if you think you can make it.” </p>
<p>Charles looked happier than he’d ever seen him before. “If you really want me to; I’d love to. I don’t get out very often anymore.” </p>
<p>“It schows,” Murderface scoffed before he could catch his tongue. He looked nervously at Charles, awaiting the lecture.</p>
<p>Instead, Charles threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck. It does, doesn’t it? All work and no play…Yeah. I’ll come with for the haunted house. You can have fun with the second executive on your own first though.” </p>
<p>“I schuppose you’ll have all the info for me about him by tomorrow?” Murderface smiled. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Charles replied as they slowly stood and went to the door. He unlocked it, handed him the duffel bag, and patted Murderface’s back gently as he walked out. “Get some good sleep–you’re going to need the energy.” </p>
<p>“What? Isch this guy schome sort of Olympian-executive or schomething?” he asked. </p>
<p>Charles shook his head. “But you should be well-rested before these, uh, little adventures no matter what. Better form, and then you won’t tire out halfway through things.” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded. “Hey…uh, thanksch. For all of thisch. I mean, I’d probably be fine on my own too, but–” </p>
<p>Charles just nodded back. “I get it. Have a good night, Murderface.” </p>
<p>The door clicked shut behind him as he started down the hall towards his room. He was definitely ready to sleep some more. But the morbid curiosity was gnawing at him too–what other skeletons did Charles have in his closet, and what exactly had he done to put them there?</p>
<p>Maybe he’d find out after Halloween night, if he could get him to join them for celebratory drinks. He hoped he would. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My @mtl-trick-or-treat for @enydart on Tumblr! Written over a year ago now; I'm finally getting all my fic from Tumblr onto here as well, including this one that was an absolute joy to write! This was for the Trick prompt, asking for ‘something gross with Murderface.’</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sure enough, the next morning there was a fat folder of intel on his bedside table. Passcodes, locations, daily itineraries, and even a page where Charles estimated the best places to strike at. </p>
<p>This one seemed like it would be slightly more work. Out of the all the places Charles had listed in the file, the only one that seemed anything like safe was a shitty strip club in the middle of the Midwest. According to Charles’ research, it was usually only barely populated even when open, and the executive in question was treated like a king there because of how much money he would spend. He’d often request the club be emptied, just for him. </p>
<p>If anything, Murderface doubted the girls working there would say anything. If he was as much of an ass as he seemed like, then he probably didn’t make their workday very easy, and nothing was better than seeing a troublesome customer leave for good. </p>
<p>Again, Charles had an alibi. “Things are moving fast with your new model girlfriend; she wants you to meet her parents. They’ll tease you a bit, but I’ll talk her up some more and it might not be so bad.” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded as they stood in front of the entrance to the plane, shivering in the cold morning air. “Do I actually get a model girlfriend at the end of this?” </p>
<p>Charles chuckled. “Maybe. I’ll see what I can do. For now, have fun and be safe.” </p>
<p>The klokateers made the flight as comfortable as they could, but he could tell they had questions and were clearly uncomfortable themselves. The one that brought him a blanket nearly spoke, but seemed to think better of it and left him be. </p>
<p>He was glad for that. He didn’t want any of them to have to die for being curious, but he knew Charles would do what he had to so they could keep their secret. </p>
<p>There was a light coating of snow on the ground when they arrived, and he was extra glad for the jeans and jacket that he’d worn. Still missed his shorts, but it was a lot warmer. </p>
<p>The strip club was only a short walk from where the plane had touched down, but his fingers and nose were numb by the time he got to the building. </p>
<p>Which wasn’t much to look at. It was empty in the parking lot except for the executive’s limo, and a back door had been swung wide open for reasons Murderface couldn’t fathom—especially with the snow being whipped about by the increasing wind. </p>
<p>But it was a quick way in, at least. Not monitored by anyone or anything, not even a fake camera in the corner. He changed quickly in the hallway, and stowed his bag in a corner. It didn’t seem like anyone else was going to be coming in anytime soon. </p>
<p>The entire club was damn near silent, except for a room towards the end of the hallway that had bass thumping out of it. Clearly, this was a day the executive had declared the club his only. Hopefully there wouldn’t be many strippers working to see him. </p>
<p>He started down the hall, ready to face whoever else might be in there with the asshole.</p>
<p>“Who the fuck are you?” A woman’s voice behind him made him jump.</p>
<p>He fought back his speech impediment. Charles had gotten him speech therapy years ago, and if he worked he could employ what they’d taught him. It was just a major pain in the ass. A necessary pain in the ass, if he was to keep from giving himself away. </p>
<p>“I’m uh…here to help.” </p>
<p>He turned to face the young woman, maybe 5′3 and 120 pounds soaking wet. She was blonde, wearing a metallic purple bikini and heels. She was also pretty damn cute, even if she did look very angry. </p>
<p>“Help with what? You gonna convince that dick to pay me? He’s rented me and the club out for a week straight, now he won’t leave or pay,” she scoffed. “Fucking prick. Someone just oughta kill him.” </p>
<p>“Funny you mention,” Murderface said, hoping she might get scared and leave. </p>
<p>Instead her eyes shone. “No way, that’s what you’re here to do? Holy fuck, don’t let me get in your way! Get to it!” </p>
<p>“You aren’t afraid I’ll kill you too?” He asked. </p>
<p>That stopped her. “Well, I wasn’t until now.” </p>
<p>They stood silent for a moment, and he felt sweat bead behind his mask. </p>
<p>“Look. I don’t wanna run away from here and call the cops on you and ruin things. But if you’re gonna kill me,” she said carefully. “Well, then…” </p>
<p>He sighed. “I’m not gonna kill you. I don’t know why I said that. I just…I need to know you won’t go to the police.” </p>
<p>She nodded. “Well, if I stay here after he’s dead, they’re gonna think I did it. That’s not gonna work.” </p>
<p>“No, it won’t,” Murderface replied. “Tell you what—you keep this a secret, and come with me when I leave. I can take you somewhere you’ll have a job, a roof over your head, and security. Would that be better?” </p>
<p>She bit her lip, clearly nervous. “You mean it? I’m not looking for a free ride; I just don’t wanna go to prison, ya know?” </p>
<p>“Look at it this way, it isn’t a free ride, it’s payment for keeping this a secret,” Murderface replied. “If you keep lookout for me right now, then it’s payment for a job well done too.” </p>
<p>She nodded, and reached a hand towards him. </p>
<p>He shook it gently, and nodded. “I’m gonna go kill him now. Anyone tries to get in here, just yell.” </p>
<p>“Got it,” she replied, and took up her station near the still open back door. </p>
<p>He turned and kept on down the hall. He could hear the executive calling for her. </p>
<p>“Hey, Crystal, come back here! I won’t put it anywhere you don’t want, promise,” he called in a voice that made it clear he did not intend to keep that promise. </p>
<p>“I’ve got something to put somewhere you don’t want,” Murderface replied as he strode into the room, pulling a dagger from another hidden sheath in the suit. </p>
<p>“No, no, what the fu—” the executive started, and stopped as Murderface swiped the dagger across his neck. Blood poured out, soaking the cheap blue carpet of the champagne room and splattering his boots as he moved to push the executive back into his chair, and stabbed at his chest. For a few moments, it all went red. </p>
<p>When he came back to himself, the executive was unquestionably dead. He turned to the door of the room, only to find Crystal standing there. </p>
<p>“Is there someone out there?” He asked. </p>
<p>She shook her head. “I just went ahead and locked the door. I…I had to see it.” </p>
<p>“Kinda gnarly,” Murderface said as he put the knife back in his suit. </p>
<p>She nodded. “But it was…”</p>
<p>“Gross?” Murderface asked. </p>
<p>“Awesome,” she breathed excitedly. “You really did a number on him. Good job.” </p>
<p>Beneath the mask, he flushed. “Thanks. You wanna get a stab in before we go?” </p>
<p>“Can I?” She asked hesitantly. </p>
<p>He stripped off a glove, and pulled it on her hand as she stepped towards him, her heels sticking into the wet carpet. He pulled the knife back from its sheath, and carefully handed it to her. </p>
<p>She stepped closer to the body, and with a scream stabbed the executive dead in his left eye. The knife took the eye with it as she yanked it back, and she giggled. </p>
<p>“Sorry, didn’t mean to get it stuck on there,” she said. </p>
<p>He used his gloved hand to yank the eye off, and tossed it to the floor. “No big deal. That was badass.” </p>
<p>She smiled as she handed the knife back to him, and followed him down the hall back towards the door. </p>
<p>He changed quickly, ready to ignore any laughter from her about his body. But there was nothing. </p>
<p>“Ready to go?” He asked once he was decent again. </p>
<p>She nodded. It was strange to have a girl so readily happy and trusting of him. Usually they just wanted to spit on him. He could get used to this.</p>
<p> At the plane, she got it. “Holy fuck, it is you. I kinda wondered, but you didn’t have the hair…” </p>
<p>He sat in the seat beside her and nodded. “Had to get rid of it for the mask. Been told I look okay with it like this though.” </p>
<p>“You do,” she replied. “So…I’m going to be a klokateer then?” </p>
<p>He nodded, then a thought hit him. “Well, there is one other option. But you can  say no, if you want.” </p>
<p>“What is it?” She asked. </p>
<p>This was dumb. She was definitely going to say no; there were limits to everything, after all, including how much a woman would put up with him.</p>
<p>“Well, my alibi is that I’m actually out visiting my model girlfriend and her parents right now. But no one has seen her yet, and—” he hesitated. “If you don’t wanna do that, I get it.”</p>
<p>She smiled. “Well, it sounds kinda fun. And I could do klokateer work on the side, right?”<br/>“Yeah, sure. But you really wanna, I mean itsch me—” Murderface started.</p>
<p>She placed a hand on top of his on the armrest of the seat. “Hey. Relax. You get your speech impediment thing back when you get nervous. I didn’t go into work anticipating this but…I’m gonna just go with it. And I doubt that playing at your girlfriend is the worst thing ever. We’re definitely friends with a dark shared secret now, if nothing else.” </p>
<p>He smiled, and moved his hand to hold hers. Gently, he didn’t want to creep her out and make her instantly regret her decision. “So…is your name actually Crystal?” </p>
<p>She laughed. “No. I was trying to be funny—choosing a stereotypical ‘stripper’ name. It was silly. My name isn’t really one you want to hear called out across a club though.” </p>
<p>“It can’t be that bad,” Murderface replied. He didn’t really think any name for such a pretty face would be bad. Unless it was Stella. He didn’t want to think of his grandmother while next to this girl.</p>
<p>She made a face and stuck out her tongue. “It’s Myra. Such an old name. They’d hear that and think I was going to come out on stage with a walker.”<br/>“Hey, you could cater to somebody’s weird kink,” he laughed. “Everybody’s got something, right?”</p>
<p>“True,” she smiled. “Can you see that, me trying to do tricks on the pole with a walker too? That’d be something.”</p>
<p>They laughed and joked some more as the plane touched down. It was dark now, he had no clue if the guys were still awake. </p>
<p>But Charles was. </p>
<p>“You…made a friend,” he said as he led them into Mordhaus. </p>
<p>Murderface nodded. “This is Myra. She’s gonna keep this last murder a secret-” </p>
<p>Myra nodded, and put a finger to her lips. </p>
<p>“And she’s agreed to be my ‘model girlfriend’ and to work here,” Murderface concluded. </p>
<p>“I certainly can’t go home,” she added. “They’ll think I killed him. I only stabbed him in the eye though.” </p>
<p>Charles raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Are you joining us for the next ones then?” </p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow right back. “More murders?” </p>
<p>“Uh…yeah. I hadn’t mentioned that, yet. You know the people who run that stupid haunted house about me?” Murderface asked. </p>
<p>She nodded. “Gotcha. Revenge murders. I mean, if you guys need someone to help, then why not. It was fun getting to stab that asshole—I bet I could do it again.” </p>
<p>“You’re very enthusiastic about this,” Charles said carefully. “Why?”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “I’ve seen people do worse for worse reasons. And it really was fun helping Murderface. Besides, I’m safe as long as I’m here, right?”</p>
<p>Charles nodded. “Indeed you are. A lack of fear towards death will benefit you greatly here.” </p>
<p>As they neared the living room, they could hear snoring. </p>
<p>“They passed out watching nature documentaries,” Charles explained as they crept through the room. “Thankfully. You can both head straight to bed, and we can save any questions for tomorrow.” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded, and took the lead then, walking Myra to his room. </p>
<p>“You can have the bed,” he said. “Least until Charles gets you your own room. You don’t wanna sleep in the klokateer barracks unless you have to.” </p>
<p>“That’s sweet of you,” she replied, a hand trailing the silk bedspread. “What about you though?” </p>
<p>He shrugged. “I’ve slept on the floor before. Not a big deal.” </p>
<p>She sat on the bed and looked at him, like she was studying him. </p>
<p>“What?” He asked. </p>
<p>“Nothing. You just…you always seemed like such an asshole, in interviews and stuff. But you’re really nice, so I don’t know why people talk shit about you so much,” she replied. </p>
<p>He felt a bit of anger rise. But it was nothing like it would have been normally. And he wasn’t mad at her, but at himself. He had been an asshole, a lot of the time, before all of this had started. He wasn’t sure why things were changing now, but it felt good. </p>
<p>“I—I have been, kind of a dick to people,” he said. “I don’t know. I started this whole ‘murder project’ and now…being nice hasn’t been so hard. I don’t know why.” </p>
<p>“Maybe you just needed something new,” she said as she flopped back onto the bed. “That’s why I went to stripping. Needed to pay off some student loans, didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. People get into all sorts of work for all sorts of reasons.” </p>
<p>He shrugged. </p>
<p>“Y’know what? I think that’s it. Y’know why?” she asked. </p>
<p>He shrugged again. New Murderface or not, he still wasn’t super keen on conversations all about feelings. </p>
<p>“Because you haven’t fallen back on your speech impediment since we killed that guy. You haven’t made any of the nasty comments I’d been told you’d normally say to women. And you seem pretty damn happy, but I’ve been told you’re a miserable ass. So either this new stuff is good for you, or…” it was her turn to shrug. </p>
<p>“I–” he didn’t know what to say. But he knew was tired. “Yeah. Maybe. We should probably get to bed now.” </p>
<p>“Fair enough,” she yawned, pulled her heels off, and tossed them by the end of the bed.</p>
<p>She had to be cold. Mordhaus always was near his room. He tossed her a clean T-shirt from his closet as he went to change for bed. </p>
<p>“See?” she called from the bed as he went to his bathroom. “That was sweet of you! You didn’t even wait for me to ask! You’re nicer than you know!” </p>
<p>“I’m a murderer,” he said, stopping at the doorway of the bathroom. </p>
<p>“Yeah, and you’re the sweetest one I’ve ever met,” she replied. </p>
<p>A sweet murderer–a sweet Murderface. He’d never thought he’d see himself like this. </p>
<p>But if it kept Myra around, and Charles as a better friend, and the guys wanting to hang out with him, then he’d be the sweetest, nicest murderer ever. </p>
<p>                                        ———————–</p>
<p>They slept through most of the next day, but he didn’t even care. He was beat. Besides, Charles had it covered. He was sure that he’d spun some tale about them fucking each other to death all night so the guys would leave them be. </p>
<p>In reality, they’d both been snoring in the ugliest way possible–Myra stretched out like a starfish on his bed, him wrapped in a few extra blankets on his floor like a burrito. But when he finally woke up fully, it was the most awake he’d ever felt. </p>
<p>“Ready to meet the guys?” he asked as they went to the living room. </p>
<p>She nodded, and tugged at the dress (one of several) the klokateers had bought for her. “I know I’m supposed to look like a model, but I hope I’m a model that wears jeans sometimes too.” </p>
<p>“I’ll tell Charles that you are; we’ll get you some new stuff,” he replied. He didn’t blame her. She looked great in the short black dress, but it didn’t look wildly comfortable. </p>
<p>He didn’t even get a word in before the jeers started. </p>
<p>“Damn, Murderface! Look at you now! Attractive, and she doesn’t hate your guts! What a lucky motherfucker you are,” Pickles crowed as they walked into the living room. An episode of Where Are They Now Now played loudly, which meant they only yelled louder. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Nathan interjected. “We don’t know that she doesn’t hate him yet, don’t put words in her mouth.” </p>
<p>“Then what are you doing?” Pickles asked. </p>
<p>“HI! I’m Myra! And actually, I like him a lot,” Myra yelled above the noise. “My parents loved him…and so do I.” </p>
<p>“Awww that ams adorables…and disgustings. How sweets,” Skwisgaar said. “What ams next, a couples costumes for Halloween?” </p>
<p>“Yes!” Myra replied brightly, and wrapped herself around Murderface. “We’re going as serial killers!”</p>
<p>He caught her mischievous grin, and smiled back. “Yeah. Real creepy silent types that you never see coming.” </p>
<p>“That never get caught, and kill anyone who stands in their way,” Myra added with a giggle. </p>
<p>“That ams specific,” Toki said nervously. “KInds of weird.” </p>
<p>“Then we did a good job coming up with it,” Myra replied happily. </p>
<p>He made a mental note to have Charles order two more of the industrial suits and masks–one for Myra, and one for Charles. It would make the last bunch of murders even better, with three nearly identical killers running around the haunted house. There would be no escape for any of them. </p>
<p>He grabbed Myra’s hand without thinking, and squeezed. </p>
<p>She squeezed back as she led them to an empty couch and flopped against him as they sat down. “So, what are we doing? Watching anything good?” </p>
<p>“Nah. Just Rockso’s episode of this shit,” Nathan replied, gesturing to Where Are They Now Now flashing across the big screen. “He’s here every fucking weekend. We know where he is. But they only ever replay his episodes! I want to watch a trainwreck that doesn’t ruin my weekends.” </p>
<p>“He just likes to bitch,” Pickles sighed. “We can change the channel, Nate. I’ve said that for like, a half hour now–” </p>
<p>“I know!” Nathan spat. “But there’s nothing else on!” </p>
<p>Pickles’ feet tapped at the TV controls on the floor, and landed on a news report. </p>
<p>About the murder. </p>
<p>Murderface felt his heart start to race, and could feel Myra stiffen up next to him. </p>
<p>“The murderer is unknown, but his act was spectacularly brutal. It is also presumed he may have kidnapped a worker of the club. Whoever this fiend is; he’s got everyone caught up in terror. Lock your doors, everyone,” the newswoman said grimly. </p>
<p>“There ams your inspirations,” Skwisgaar said. “For yous costumes. Gots to be more brutals than thats guy.” </p>
<p>“I think Murderface can come up with something more brutal,” Myra replied. “I’m sure of it, in fact. Just wait for Halloween.” </p>
<p>It felt like his heart would explode with anxiety and excitement. He needed to move, to get up and go anywhere that wasn’t with them. </p>
<p>“Uh, yeah. Hey, we should go tell Charles about our Halloween plans. Maybe he’ll dress up too, so c’mon!” he felt bad dragging her off of the couch, but she seemed to understand as they walked to Charles’ office. </p>
<p>“Kinda wild, seeing it on TV,” she murmured as they walked. “Imagine the coverage they’ll have for the haunted house once we’re done with it.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. It’s gonna be fun,” he replied. “Just wish it would get here sooner.” </p>
<p>“We could go down sooner, and take them out. But we’ll probably get more of them on Halloween,” she said. </p>
<p>And she was right. But that was still a few days away, and he didn’t know if he could wait that long. </p>
<p>He pushed open the door to the office, only to find Charles standing there already in the suit. </p>
<p>“Hey! I thought we could match, I, uh, hope that’s okay,” he said as they stepped in and locked the door behind them. </p>
<p>“I love it!” Myra cheered. She was bubbly over the whole thing, and it was adorable. She’d make a great security klokateer with that energy for violence. </p>
<p>“Good, because you’ve got one too,” Charles replied, and gestured towards a cardboard box on his desk. </p>
<p>She squealed, and Murderface felt himself flush. Though just as bad was watching Charles strut in the suit. He’d never once looked at Charles…like that. But the guy was bringing some sort of energy to the whole thing that he couldn’t get over. They were both going to be the end of his ability to concentrate if they didn’t tone it down for the final murders. </p>
<p>“You guys look great,” he managed. “But we should figure out how we want to do this. Do we go in one at a time? All together, but at different entrances and exits?” </p>
<p>“The second might be easier,” Charles replied, gesturing for them to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. He took his seat behind it, and steepled his fingers. “That way we’re coming at them from all different directions, and in the maze of the house they won’t be able to figure out exactly how many of us there are.” </p>
<p>“You’ve been thinking about this already, haven’t you?” Murderface asked. </p>
<p>Charles nodded and smiled in an utterly evil way. “Of course. I even got us a map of the house–all the easiest potential exits are marked. It wouldn’t hurt to study it closely, over the next few days. We won’t be able to bring it with us.” </p>
<p>Myra looked over the map on the desk, and whistled. “Man, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? Got it all put together, all we gotta do is show up.” </p>
<p>Charles blushed. “I have, actually. But I just like planning things too, I mean–” </p>
<p>“He really does,” Murderface agreed. “That’s why he’s the manager. Loves all that boring shit.” </p>
<p>“It isn’t all boring,” Charles protested. “Sometimes, anyway. Now, are we all good to wait for Halloween? No one’s itching to go now?” </p>
<p>Murderface sighed. “I mean, I know we should wait. But waiting is…ugh.” </p>
<p>“I know,” Charles agreed. “But we really want to make a statement, right? Halloween is the best time to do it then. Plus, then the house is shut down for the night, so they lose the chance to make money on what’s likely to be their best night.” </p>
<p>“We can just chill for a few days,” Myra said. “Watch some NASCAR, hang out and do whatever. We’ll get through it.” </p>
<p>Murderface wanted to slam his face into the desk over the two of them. They had to stop; he couldn’t take it. This was supposed to be revenge, not a bunch of feelings. </p>
<p>“Sounds good!” Charles chirped. He was smiling like Murderface had never seen him do before. Where the hell had this Charles been hiding? </p>
<p>“C’mon,” Myra said as they left Charles to finish his preparations. “We can hang out in your room and avoid them all. We’ll just tell them we’re fucking or something.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Murderface replied weakly. “Can’t risk them finding out anything.” </p>
<p>“Exactly,” Myra said as she squeezed his hand and pulled him into his room. “You ready to veg out and do fuck-all?” </p>
<p>And boy was he ever.</p>
<p>                                     ————————</p>
<p>Myra had it right–doing nothing weirdly made the days pass quickly. Before he knew it, Halloween was upon them, as well as the end of it all. </p>
<p>They didn’t look out of place in Mordhaus though. The klokateers even wore little accessories, like devil horns. </p>
<p>Pickles had gone all out again as another version of Bowie. Ziggy Stardust Bowie, this year. </p>
<p>Nathan went simple–just the corpse paint they wore on stage, and some grumbling of “I’m like a zombie, can’t you dildos see that?” </p>
<p>Toki was a cat. Admittedly a very ripped cat–Murderface wasn’t sure that being shirtless with fake cat’s paws, ears, and a tail was exactly the way anyone else would dress up as a cat, but Toki was so happy. No one wanted to ruin it for him, and any fans waiting for pictures of them partying would love getting an eyeful of him. </p>
<p>Skwisgaar had gone as something demonic. Murderface wasn’t sure exactly what, but it involved dark black ram’s horns on a headband, black contacts, and some of the best make-up work he’d seen. The make-up team either owed Skwisgaar a favor, or had been bored. But they’d done a great job no matter what. </p>
<p>Then there was the three of them–himself, Myra, and Charles, all outfitted up as the terrifying killers they were going to be that night–and already were, really. </p>
<p>“Jesus!” Pickles shouted as they joined the rest of the beginning party in the living room. “You guys really went all out, fuck!” </p>
<p>“You’re in spandex,” Nathan muttered from the couch. </p>
<p>“Yeah, and you like looking at it, don’t ya?” Pickles taunted with a shake of his ass. “Yeah, so shut it.” </p>
<p>“It ams creepy, all threes of yous dresseds the same,” Skwisgaar shuddered from where he reclined on another couch. “Wouldn’ts want to runs into yous all in a darks alley.” </p>
<p>“No, I don’t think anyone would,” Charles said. The mask obscured his mouth, but Murderface knew he was smiling that evil grin underneath it. “We’re heading out for a bit, but don’t get too fucked up without us.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, we’ve still got celebration drinks to go out for!” Murderface called as they started for the door. </p>
<p>The guys cheered, sounding like they were maybe already slightly fucked up. Oh well–so they’d all be sloppy messes by the end of the night. It was going to be a celebration, after all. </p>
<p>The ride to the haunted house was tense in the best way–they were all hopping with excitement; Murderface could feel it just by sitting by them in the car Charles had rented for their trip. </p>
<p>Charles in particular seemed like he barely had a handle on himself. He suddenly had a lead foot, like the haunted house would run away from them if they didn’t get there as fast as possible. </p>
<p>The crowd at the house was horribly thick too. Good for their cover, but shitty to try and get through. No one really notice them though, as they pushed and shoved their way towards the various exits and entrances hidden along the walls of the attraction. </p>
<p>Then they were in, all in different directions. It was a heady feeling, on his own now in the house, with fog machines going and noise surrounding him. Worse yet, that the noises were tapes of his grandmother’s voice, of actors shrieking as they acted out the final moments of his parents. </p>
<p>It was therapeutic, to start slashing. He took out any actor he saw, pausing only briefly to check for pulses and slice throats if needed as he went. The team lead was supposed to be easy to find–a younger man, working as security for the attraction too, in a bright yellow shirt that had ‘Lead’ splashed across it according to the bulletin board at the entrance of the house that held pictures of all the staff members. </p>
<p>But there were flashing lights and color everywhere, and crowds panicked and ran as they found more and more bodies. He could see evidence of Myra and Charles’ work everywhere. At this rate, it would take them no time to empty the whole damn house. </p>
<p>Suddenly, one of them was there. Charles, by the eyes behind the mask. He pointed down a dark hall, and nodded. The final big target was waiting for him. </p>
<p>Murderface charged down the hall, pushing people aside. He could only imagine how he looked, with the hidden sheathes of his suit stained with blood from the weapons he already used and made sure to put back in their proper spots. </p>
<p>Bright yellow, a visual klaxon that made the knife itch in his hand. </p>
<p>The first stab was right to the throat. He heard a woman yell, and the sound of feet running back down the hall. No matter. There was work to finish. </p>
<p>Another stab to the team lead’s neck, then more to the chest and gut, even as the man reached up and tried to wrap his hands around Murderface’s throat. </p>
<p>Another knife in the man’s thigh, courtesy of Myra. She’d taken smaller knives from his hoard of them, but she knew where to put them. Blood spurted from the wound, and Murderface could hear her giggling gleefully as it splattered them. </p>
<p>Suddenly Charles was behind the man, hands holding him tight in place. </p>
<p>“Finish it,” he hissed. </p>
<p>Myra had wrapped herself around the man’s legs to keep them still, and nodded in agreement. </p>
<p>The final stab, right to the man’s face, hurt. He was, after all, hitting a lot of bone and cartilage. It was less of proper stab than he would have liked, but it did the trick. The man slumped in Charles’ hands, and Charles dropped him onto the floor. </p>
<p>They made it out with the rest of the crowd, pretending to be as panicked and afraid, even though he could feel Charles and Myra excitedly squeezing his hands as they ran. Only when they were back in the car did they let the act fall. </p>
<p>And immediately managed to injure each other. Charles had gone in for a kiss to Murderface, as had Myra, and in his attempt to meet them both all they’d managed to do was crack each other in the skull. </p>
<p>“Ah, fuck, sorry,” Murderface whimpered as he pressed a hand to his aching head and yanked his mask off.</p>
<p>“No, I should have said something first; I got impulsive,” Charles said, pulling his mask off to reveal an already growing bruise on his face. </p>
<p>“Oh shit, sorry!” Myra exclaimed as she rubbed her forehead. “That…that didn’t work.” </p>
<p>“No,” Charles agreed. </p>
<p>Murderface could still only whimper. Being in the middle meant he got nailed the hardest, and not in a good way. </p>
<p>“Try again?” Myra asked quietly as she pulled her mask off. “Taking turns, this time?” </p>
<p>Charles nodded, and then suddenly there he was, warm gloved hands and lips that had somehow gotten blood on them, and left the taste of iron lingering on his tongue. </p>
<p>Murderface took a breath after that. Another thing he’d never thought would happen, but he was so glad it had. He pulled Charles back for another kiss, a little bit rougher this time. </p>
<p>“Don’t forget about me,” Myra murmured in his ear, and he turned to meet her lips while Charles moved to his neck. </p>
<p>Thankfully, they’d parked far enough away from the house that the cops showing up didn’t notice them, or what was going on in the car. Even if they didn’t take them in for the murders, they definitely would have arrested them for something else.</p>
<p>                                          ————————-</p>
<p>They were a mess. A happy, bloody mess, leaving muck all over the floors of Mordhaus as they went. </p>
<p>The guys stared as they came in and flopped on the floor of the living room. </p>
<p>“What in the fuck did you guys get up to?” Nathan asked as he downed what appeared to be his fiftieth shot, if the empty bottles surrounding everyone were any indicator. </p>
<p>Charles was the first to sit up and look at them, but he dissolved into laughter before he could get a word out. </p>
<p>Pickles grinned. “Whatever it was musta been pretty fucking good. Look it that; you guys ever seen him act like that? Hope you guys still have energy to go out and celebrate.” </p>
<p>“Hell yeah,” Murderface said as he picked himself up off the floor. “Let’s go get fucked up!” </p>
<p>There were cheers as they headed for the door, Myra and Charles having pulled each other up from the floor and the rest of the guys stumbling against each other, playfully arguing over who would sit by who in the limo. </p>
<p>“Yous…whats it ams, ams gone,” Toki commented to him as they piled into the limo. “Yous speech things.” </p>
<p>Murderface nodded. The damned lisp he’d struggled so much to get rid of (and then had ignored when it seemed like too much work to be rid of) was gone. He could probably fall back into it if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. </p>
<p>Like Myra had said. New work, new him. All good and fresh and ready to fuck shit up. </p>
<p>After all, there were always people coming up as a threat to Dethklok. Who better to dispatch them than him? He knew Charles had plenty of files and intel to go through, one by one, stab by stab. </p>
<p>But first, drinks. </p>
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